


She's Like the Sun

by sdd_writes_things



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura (Voltron) - Freeform, F/M, Shiro (Voltron) - Freeform, Takashi Shirogane - Freeform, Voltron, aka i really love shallura im gonna DIE, from shy handholding to VIOLENT NECKING this fic has it all, in the present tense too, rip at me, shallura - Freeform, step right up folks because heres some almost smutty content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:47:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9602351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdd_writes_things/pseuds/sdd_writes_things
Summary: In which neither Shiro nor Allura can actually sleep at night and they're super thirsty for each other, turning tentative hand holding into nearly making love on the floor which then somehow turns into seventy miles of blankets and then sleeping in front of a window.





	

Shiro doesn't really remember how to be soft. He doesn't remember most things about who he was before he joined the Galaxy Garrison.

He can't sleep on the mattresses of the castleship. They're too comfortable, like if he lets himself sink into them they'll wrap him up and stuff themselves down his throat to suffocate him.

Shiro sleeps on the floor.

He gets up every two hours at night to wander the halls; a year in Zarkon’s prisons made sure to ruin his sleeping schedule. He knows each corridor now like he'd spent ten thousand years in the castle, and he can walk down some of them entirely shut-eyed.

It's an unimportant talent, but it gives him a childlike sense of security to know he has it.

Shiro appreciates the natural beauty of things and often during his nightly strolls he'll stop at a window and just stare at the stars drifting by. It's soothing to watch them pass, like watching snow fall. It quells his headaches and steadies his heart when the memories come back.

And when  _ she's  _ there with him.

Allura doesn't meander as frequently as he does. Or maybe she does, but her schedule is erratic and unplanned. Still, there are times when their awakenings intersect and she takes him to her favorite part of the castle to stargaze. She radiates warmth like the sun and when she sits this close to him, bundled up in a quilt, eyes closed and a smile on her face, he can barely control the frantic beating of his heart against his ribs like a frightened bird in a cage.

Is Shiro frightened? Perhaps. He's never actually had to follow through with his feelings before, and Allura isn't even human, either. Allura is something entirely new, new to him at least, and it's such a wonderous prospect to be able to love her like he wants to that he almost perceives it as impossible. As some divine, cosmic feat only to be attempted by a god because she is so, so positively stunning in every way and he's afraid to fail.

But maybe tonight is different.  _ She's  _ different too, he notes. There's a different heaviness in her gaze when she turns her beautifully enigmatic blue eyes on him, a heaviness that could almost be seen as wanting. Not hungry, not yet, but a painful yearning he feels from the center of his chest to the pit of his stomach and he's sure is reflected in his own eyes.

Allura’s closer tonight. Her shoulder brushes his and it's all he can do to keep from holding his breath. If he did, she'd know. And maybe she'd take advantage of it. Shiro doesn't know. He doesn't know her either, not like he wants to. He doesn't know if she's the type of person who, given this situation, would take the opportunity if it presented itself to make a move.

He doesn't know if he is, either. But he's about to find out. It's all about will, in this case. All about the guts to leap from the top of his heart to the bottom and let her know how he feels.

A million “what-ifs” a minute run through his brain, and he's acutely aware of Allura’s fingers brushing his off to his left. She's staring, tiredly, into space, not meeting his eyes or perhaps not even noticing his gaze, but still her hand is moving almost of its own accord to wrap her fingers around his, and Shiro catches on to whatever game she's playing.

So, averting his eyes as well, he shifts his palm from its place on the cold metal floor and takes her hand fully. Allura’s small noise of surprise and sudden rigidness elicit the smallest of smiles from Shiro’s lips, which only grows wider when he looks over at her to find her staring right back.

The want in her eyes is like a magnet that pulls on his heart hard enough to ram it against his bones, but not hard enough to break them. It almost hurts, but for some reason he can't get enough of the pain. She's so close,  _ they're  _ so close, it just takes a few words…

He realizes her face is a little closer than before. Or a lot closer. Probably the latter. He can feel her breath, slow and hot on his mouth and his neck and it's driving him crazy to keep himself under control. He wants to kiss her so bad, and he hopes she thinks the same.

Shiro’s confident he's right when she shifts to face him and grabs his collar. He can only manage a soft, thick, “Allura--” before her lips are on his and he's on his back on the floor, arms wrapped around her waist. Her lips are soft, so ethereally soft, and they taste like summer. Like berries and flowers and the sun and he melts into them, letting her take her time with him.

If they get no other chance during this war, they might as make the most of this one.

Her fingers dance across his neck and over his shoulders and down his sides where his nightshirt has ridden up, and they're scalding and freezing simultaneously on his waist and he can't help but wriggle, making a soft, involuntary noise against her mouth. Allura smiles, he can feel it on his lips, and she darts her hand underneath the shirt to torture him further.

Shiro isn't ticklish. But her hands are like fire on his skin and he can feel her handprints burning their own scars into his flesh, even if he can't see them. She runs her fingers across his spine and he arches his back, pulling her closer so that there is no place where they aren't touching.

Allura flicks her tongue over his and he sighs heavily against her cheek, letting his hands run down her sides to the dangerous territory of her hips. Shiro lets her pin him down against the floor because in this moment he is hers and she is his and they're together, as one, letting their young hearts run as fast as they can.

He doesn't quite know when he loses his shirt or she her top layer of nightclothing but his lips are swollen and she's biting his neck, placing marks he'll be sure to cover up in the morning. For a moment she brings her head back up to kiss his mouth, and he takes the opportunity in the slowly brightening artificial daylight of the castleship to hook his arm around her back and flip the two of them over, being careful not to put too much of his weight on her.

Allura is strong, he knows this, but that doesn't mean he can be careless. That, and he's afraid that if he pushes against her too much…

Well, even if he was ready for that, he wouldn't be back in bed for a long time, if at all. And if anyone found them out here, well, he doesn't want to have to explain that. Especially to Lance and Coran.

Shiro places a kiss to the corner of her jaw, and then leaves a trail of them down her neck. Allura shudders and sucks in a breath through her clenched teeth, digging her fingers into his back when he gets to her collarbone. Her breath is hot and his ears are burning and her tanktop has ridden up a bit and his skin is against hers and he's enjoying every moment of it.

He's suddenly shaken back into reality when her fingers hook around the waist of his pants and start to shift downward. “Allura…” he moans against her mouth, and she catches his lips in her teeth. “Allura, wait…”

“Mmh?” she replies, dazed. She's stopped removing his pants, at least.

“Maybe we should…we should stop,” he continues, placing one last tender kiss to her lips.

She sounds disappointed. “Why?”

Shiro doesn't leave her embrace quite yet. “I'm not…I want to…just…”

Allura seems to get the message and moves her arms to wrap them around his neck. “Oh. Sorry,” she says softly. “I just thought…”

Shiro closes his eyes and rests his chin in the crook of her neck, sliding his arms under her back to hold her under him. “It's okay,” he laughs quietly. “We both got a little ahead of ourselves.”

For a few moments they just lay there, holding each other, letting their hearts beat in sync. Allura smells like lavender and fresh air on a late spring day, and he's sure he doesn't smell nearly as good, especially after the last…what? Half hour? Two hours? Rough, needy necking for that long a time is a surefire way to get someone sweaty.

Shiro brings his hand up to her head and runs it through her silvery gossamer hair, forcing himself to calm down. Forcing his breathing to even, in, out, out when hers are in, in when hers are out.

At some point she laughs to herself. “We should probably get back to bed,” she whispers.

“Yeah,” Shiro replies. He doesn't make an effort to leave. She's so warm and she reminds him of home. No, no, she  _ is _ home, no doubt about that. She teaches him how to be soft in a universe so hard and he doesn't want to let go.

Allura wriggles and sits them both up, clearly unhindered by Shiro’s larger frame, and keeps her arms around him, kneading her fingertips into the taught muscles of his back. Part of it, he guesses, sighing into her neck, is that she knows he needs it. He hasn't had loose muscles in a long time.

The other part--and he  _ knows _ this, it's the most reasonable explanation--is she wants an excuse to feel him. To run her hands over all the scars and bruises and blemishes, to feel him burn underneath her and memorize the crackling of his flame. And he doesn't mind being reduced to carbon with her touch. It's like he's Icarus and she's the sun and he's willing to throw himself in and burn. Poetic, he thinks to himself, as he realizes the probability of him actually dying for her is very high.

Shiro pushes that to the back of his mind.

Allura moves to let go of him and he makes a tired noise of complaint, leaning after her like a sunflower in the afternoon. She laughs and places a soft kiss to his forehead. “I'll be back,” she hums. “I'm just going to grab some blankets and pillows. It'll be nice to sleep out here for a change.” She pauses, eyeing him. “You'll need to hide those for tomorrow.”

Shiro has his shirt halfway on. “What?”

Allura subconsciously runs her tongue over her lips and smiles, almost bashfully. “All, ah, evidence of…this.” She gestures vaguely to the air surrounding them and Shiro looks down at his bare torso. Purple-red bruises pepper his collarbone and his chest and his hips, and he knows there are more on his neck. Heat rises up in his cheeks and he quickly slides the shirt on all the way.

“Oh. Y-yeah, I guess so.”

Allura winks, and he tries to ignore the chills running down his spine. “I have something for that, hold on.”

Ten minutes later, she's giddily jogging down the hall with quite possibly seventy square meters of blankets like a young child preparing for a sleepover, and on top of what Shiro assumes are her arms underneath all that fabric are a couple small boxes he knows are undeniably makeup sets. He uses some like hers every day.

His ability to perfectly wing his eyeliner granted him friendship among nearly every single girl and a few boys in the Garrison.

Allura plops down on the floor, smiling wide.  _ She's so cute _ , Shiro thinks to himself, propping up his chin with his hand. As she excitedly turns her blankets into a nest of some sort, he marvels at how one moment she can be so dominant and ready to get in his pants, and the next she can be entirely adorable like the princess she never got a chance to be.

Once Allura is settled, she opens her makeup boxes. She dabs a brush in some clear powder, and instructs Shiro to pull his shirt down over his shoulders so she can cover as much as possible. He watches her apply the powder, and laughs a little. “Princess, I don't think clear makeup will work.”

“Yes, it will. This changes color to match your natural skin tone and can heal injuries to an extent,” she informs him, before meeting his eyes conspiratorially. “That way when it comes off it'll look less like my teeth and more like a normal bruise.”

It takes her about five minutes, and since Shiro only kissed her she doesn't need to put any on herself. She sprays a fixative on the powder and Shiro lets it dry for a bit before pulling his shirt back on the right way.

Underneath her blankets, Allura looks out into the vastness of space. “We should do this more often,” she says breezily, as if they'd only been stargazing and hadn't almost made love on the floor. Shiro chokes on his own throat and tries to ignore the burning in his face, neck, and ears.

“I--uh--”

“What do you think?”

Shiro blinks and rubs the back of his neck. “I…yeah, yeah, we should.”

Allura’s smile makes his heart skip a beat and she curls the endless expanse of down comforter around her, brushing her legs against Shiro’s as if to remind him what is always in store.

Shiro thinks for a moment, mortification suddenly washing over him. “You don't think…your father installed security cameras in this particular section of the castle…?”

A brief, heavy moment of silence, until the almost amusing hushed voice of Allura whispers out of the blankets.

“Quiznak.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not included: Pidge definitely hacks into the security system and watches this unfold while eating popcorn and muttering "fcking finally"


End file.
